Kaz holds his breath; Inej gently takes his bared hands into her own. Her fingertips are calloused and softly scarred, but she holds his palms as if they’re delicate silks. He shivers when she traces the pads of her fingers against the backs of his and outlines the tip of his knuckles with her nails.

He stares at her as she smiles softly to herself; Inej doesn’t appear repulsed by the sight of his hands bared of their gloves. When he peers down to watch her fingers touch him, Kaz doesn’t once flinch.